


One of Them, One of Us

by blue_striped_pyjamas



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: Angst, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Self Harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-14 14:01:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10537971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_striped_pyjamas/pseuds/blue_striped_pyjamas
Summary: Delia and Patsy find someone on the Nonnatus House doorstep who they have rather a lot in common with.





	1. Chapter 1 - Patsy Mount

**Author's Note:**

> This is simply an introduction, to get my own creative juices flowing, as they say - a brief introduction to our characters (another chapter, for our darling Deels, will follow as soon as I can get my clouded brain into gear).

Patsy Mount was a good nurse. It was one of the few things in life she was truly sure of. In her work, she was Nurse Mount, cool, collected and brusque. Sometimes she came across as cold, occasionally hard, but she tried to show her patients that she did care about them when they needed it. Patsy Mount was a person that not many people knew; only the lucky few broke past her solid facade, built up over many years onto the foundations of her traumatic youth. However, one person knew her more than she thought anyone ever could - Delia Busby. Her Delia.

During her younger years, before she started training at the London nursing school, Patsy had anticipated that she would spend her life alone. She certainly wasn't going to settle down with a man. The thought of having a family terrified her, she couldn't look at the baby of a blonde mother without being reminded of her younger sister, may God bless her soul. Patsy kept her hair a fiery red colour to hide herself from her past, her blonde hair reminded her of her sister too much. Patsy had managed to keep it blonde throughout her time at the London hospital, but moving to Nonnatus House and becoming a midwife was the change she needed to allow her to move on. Delia hadn't minded, of course she didn't, she was utterly smitten with Patsy regardless of her appearance, or her manner, or countless other things that Patsy despised about herself.

The cobbles of the London streets heading up to Nonnatus House clattered beneath the wheels of Patsy's bike. It was quite unnerving riding around these parts of London, where the cobbles were rough, and all manner of objects, discarded by the many workers who traipsed the darkened streets on the way home from work, whether that be from the docks, or the factories, or the offices. Nurses, and anyone else who found themselves often riding upon the seat of a bicycle, had to very quickly learn how to tame their unstable steed, or they would end up in a crumpled heap on the road, like Delia had. Delia. Patsy pushed the thought of her love's accident out of her mind as quickly as it had entered.

Patsy knew that she really was no good at losing people. She had been forced to watch her mother, and then her sister die of disease and malnutrition in the Japanese camp. That was the most traumatic moment of her life, and always would be. If she was forced to look on the bright side, as unjust as that notion was, she did know that it was that experience that had triggered her passion for nursing. If she hadn't have had the urge, obsession even, for making people better, for fixing as much of the hurt in the world as she possible could, she would never had moved to London, never had met all of the friends she had in the world, and the family she had made for herself at Nonnatus. Above all, she would never have met Delia, she may never even have fallen in love. 

Losing Delia would have equaled the trauma of losing her mother and sister, and doubled, if not tripled, the pain felt ever single day of her life. She could still see her poor, broken body, lying in that hospital bed after her accident. Being called to Hong Kong to be with her father as he passed was terribly difficult, not because she had to watch her last remaining blood relative die, but because she had to be away from Delia. Being back in London was all the reminder she needed to remind her of how lucky she was to have people who truly loved her, and accepted her for who she was. Well a couple of people at least, she still wasn't sure how anyone would react to the discover that she and Delia were in a relationship, one that would not be accepted by the majority of people. But still, she had Delia, and now Phyllis knew about who she is too. So, she was heading home to Delia, and she would be happy. She had spent the day at work, taking pain away and bring joy to the lives of a total of three mothers that day alone. And soon she would be in Nonnatus House, with a mug of Horlicks, surrounded by family, before heading off for a well deserved, early, night of undisturbed sleep, safe from any harm.


	2. Chapter 2 - Delia Busby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should have combined this chapter and the last, but I'm a little all over the place and catching the writing bug was most unexpected. Anyway, here's a chapter for Delia before I get to the dark bits of the story that is brewing in my head right now.

There was no one in the world that loved Patsy Mount more than Delia Busby. Before she had met Patsy, Delia didn't know that it was possible to love someone how she did, nor as intensely as she loved her Pats. She had grown up in an isolated village in Wales, completely sheltered from the rest of the world, both by location, and by her somewhat overbearing mother. Delia knew that her mother loved her, but she did have an awfully funny way of showing it sometimes. All Mrs Busby wanted in the world was for Delia to grow up how she had, safe in the depths of Pembrokeshire, with a husband and children, maybe even a dog, but with no worry for the outside world, just as she had. 

There was always something different about Delia. Even as a child, she had stuck out like a sore thumb. She had always enjoyed being daredevlish, playing outside in the fields and by the brook with the boys from her school. She wasn't the only girl who had enjoyed similar pastimes as a young child, but by the age of 12, most girls were beginning to develop a sense of boys in a different sense, the first buds of romance slowly blossoming. Delia's flowers never grew in that way. For the longest time, they didn't seem to blossom at all. That was, until she had met Patsy as a student in London. Then, everything bloomed at once. She knew at once, that she would have to get close to Patsy, and of course it was her who made the first move, as Patsy would always be too afraid to do so. Delia wasn't bothered by that, she knew how much every move Patsy made was based on solid self-preservation, and for good reason too.

Delia knew that, bar a few exceptions, her romantic inclination, her queerness, was not something that would be easily accepted, maybe ever. Accepting it herself the first time round, was never an issue, she was distracted by Patsy's overwhelming beauty, which she was lucky enough to have grace her presence almost every day, in the corridors of the London hospital, or the dining room of the Nurses' Home. Eventually their meeting spot became a cafe just a little way out of Poplar, far enough away to avoid recognition. Many afternoons they had spent there, just the two of them, whiling away the afternoon, with endless cups of tea (with extra milk for herself), listening to their favourite songs on the jukebox. Eventually, they took their meetings to their rooms on occasion, after Delia had talked Patsy into furthering their relationship.

No, it was the second time she had to come to accept herself that was difficult. After her accident, her head injury had caused her to forget everything, her friends, her family, even who she was, her name, where she lived, everything. Having been forced to move back to Wales with her parents, she felt more alone than she ever thought possible. She felt so much pain, mentally and physically, and there was nothing she could do to numb it. When her memories of Patsy gradually came back to her, she felt like a freak, broken and forever unmendable. Now, being back in London with Patsy, and the Nonnatuns, she was happy. She could put those days, and the terrible contents of them, behind her. No one needed to know, especially not Patsy. She was bad at keeping up facades, she would rather express her emotions, but Patsy already had enough trouble of her own to deal with. Once Delia had noticed the pain that she had endured after the fateful day of her accident, she had sworn to herself that Patsy would never be burdend with any more pain from her love.

To distract herself, Delia turned her mind to what she could do to envelope Patsy in her love as soon as she returned home. Functioning as a home, a place of worship and a place of work, Nonnatus House never stood still. Although it added to the fear Delia and Patsy constantly had, that they would be caught in an unforgiving situation, and worst case scenario, caught by a nun, but at the same time, the motions of the building were predictable, bringing a degree of safety, so long as everyone was where they were expected to be, in the right place, at the right time. In the early evening, the Nuns would be in compline, Valeria and Trixie would both be kept out of the way by the labouring mothers of Poplar. So, tonight Delia would put a pan of milk on for Horlicks for herself and Patsy (plus a mug to drop off for Phyllis), and then wait at the door, ready to greet her Pats when she returned home, just like they had dreamed. A perfect evening, just for the two of them.


	3. Chapter 3 - A Strange Girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm... Another Chapter in the space of a few hours? Sure. Not like it's 3am or anything.

A typical London shower poured down upon Patsy as she passed under the bridge, and headed up to Nonnatus. It had only been raining for a few minutes, but she was already soaked to the skin, even with her thick nurse's cape pulled tightly around her shoulders. The warm yellow of the lamp which lit the doorway of Nonnatus House felt familiar to Patsy. Home. So close. Unbeknownst to her, Delia was perched on the stairs just behind the door, poised to ambush her lover with a welcoming hug as soon as she stepped foot over the threshold. 

It was as she pushed her bike into the shed that Patsy noticed her - a girl sat behind the wall of the steps leading up to Nonnatus house. She didn't recognise her, it wasn't one of the nurses, and it certainly wasn't one of the nuns. Her hair made that obvious enough, cropped short, just above her ears, not like a boys, but certainly not the most feminine style. It was cropped and rough, like it had been shredded with a blade, not cut with sharp scissors. If Patsy looked disheveled, after a long day on the streets of London on her bike and countless hours in delivery rooms, and a dampening ride home, this poor girl looked as though she was practically drowned already. 

Patsy hurried as quickly as she could to lock her bike away, and unbuckle the straps which firmly held her leather midwife's bag in place. She ran up to the steps to get a clearer view of the stranger hiding there. The girl certainly looked in need of shelter, and whilst she was seeking it behind the wall, she was not succeeding in keeping herself dry, nor safe for that matter, being outside in the rain with nothing more than a loose blouse to keep her warm. As Patsy approached she could see that the girl was shivering with cold. Not only that, she was very heavily pregnant. 

"Excuse me? Are you quite alright down there?" Patsy called out, not wanting to startle the girl.

The girl looked up sharply, like a small animal, cornered by a predator. Patsy could see the fear in her body language before she could even see her face. As she looked up, Patsy noticed the red rings around her eyes, and the streaks across her cheeks. It was obvious that she had been crying for a long time without rest. Patsy knelt down beside her. She did not know how to comfort anyone, never mind a stranger which she knew nothing about, but this was obviously someone in need, and as a nurse and midwife, Patsy knew that she had to help, if she could.   
"Can I ask your name?" Patsy asked softly.  
"M-Marty" the girl stammered out fearfully. "Martha Mason even... I... sorry..." she added, apologetically.

Patsy couldn't help but be slightly confused by the situation she was faced with. She had seen so many people in her time as a midwife, but never anyone quite like this, certainly not anyone so close to becoming a mother. The closest she had seen to someone with a similar haircut or choice of fashion was the funny woman who guarded the door at Gateways, the hidden club that she and Delia frequented as often as they could these days. Known for thinking on her feet and always figuring out what to do, even Patsy was completely stumped as to what to do. The girl let out a soft whimper, which grew into a gentle but more desperate moan. Well, that was that problem sorted, Patsy would have to get her inside. She wasn't sure that the girl was going into labour, but she was a pregnant woman, and in pain, and therefore she needed help.

"Can you stand up for me please sweetie?"   
Patsy didn't wait for an answer, this was urgent - she had to get her patient warm. She took the girl into her arms, and encouraged her to stand in the way she might have lifted a small child, for she seemed so weak and helpless. Broken, even. Once Patsy had lifted the girl to her feet, she lead her towards the door, hoping that there would be someone nearby to help them both. The steps were difficult to manage, holding Martha around her waist now, trying to keep her upright. It was awfully difficult to manage, and the rain had made the step more slippery than anything could, except perhaps ice. 

Patsy barely tapped upon the great oak door of Nonnatus before it was flung open. Patsy would have been thrilled to see Delia, but right now she needed her assistance more than ever.  
"Medical Room - quickly!"   
Patsy was very much Nurse Mount when she had a patient in need of attention, as much as she wanted to just be Delia's Pats, that would have to wait. There were more important things to do. Together, they got Martha into the medical room. Delia ran to fetch towels, hot water and a change of clothes from the Charity box, leaving Patsy to examine their patient. That proved surprisingly difficult, Martha hadn't uttered a word since she had been taken inside, and refused to let Patsy touch her abdomen. But, as it had been over 10 minutes since Martha had even seemed slightly uncomfortable, Patsy was convinced that she was only experiencing Braxton-Hicks contractions. A false alarm. By the looks of things though, it wouldn't be long until baby really was on the way.

Delia soon returned with everything that was needed to warm Martha up, plus a cup of sweet tea for Patsy too, as she was beginning to shiver. Delia decided that the best idea right now was to send her off to get changed into something warm. She would be of more use to everyone if she was more comfortable. Although she would never voice it, Delia also knew that what this patient needed was compassion, and that wasn't always Patsy's strength. As Patsy left the room, Delia knelt down in front of their patient.   
"Martha? Is there anything I can do to help you tonight?" Delia questioned.  
She didn't want to push her too hard, but she knew that something must be done. She knew what it was like to suffer alone, as did Patsy, and she couldn't bear witnessing someone else going through that too. She reached out to hold Martha's hand, trying desperately to comfort her. Martha pulled her hand away, as if from hot coals, just how Patsy did when she was upset. 

"Please don't touch me", Martha said, barely louder than a whisper, her voice braking with every syllable. "I'm a freak, a good person like you can't touch someone like me".  
"Can you tell me what makes you say that sweetie? I'm sure it isn't true" Delia tried to sound as comforting as possible. She wasn't sure what Martha was going to say next, but she was quite sure that she understood how the wretched girl felt.   
"I'm... I'm a-a..." Martha tried to get through what she was going to say, but Patsy walked in at just that moment, and Martha clammed up again. Typical, thought Delia. Someone always walked in whenever she had to try and get someone to open up. Usually it was Patsy, but in this case the roles seemed to be reversed. It was quite the eventful evening, and it was getting rather late. Pulling Patsy to the side of the room, they decided together that the best course of action would be to fetch Sister Jullienne as soon as the nuns had finished Compline, and persuade her to let their found patient stay in a spare room overnight, as it was too late to move her elsewhere. Delia had the next day off, and although Patsy had clinic in the morning, she could be free for the rest of the day. They would try and get Martha to cooperate with them then.


	4. Disturbance in the Night

Fortunately for everyone, Patsy and Delia managed to convince Sister Julienne to let Martha spend the night in the spare room. It was a room set out for a nun, but it was warm and comfortable enough for her to spend the night in. The charity box was full enough to furnish Martha with not only a change of clothes that she could spend the next day in, but a comfortable set of pyjamas, not dissimilar to the ones favoured by Patsy herself. Patsy's favourite set of pyjamas were a blue striped affair, but since the accommodation changes had allowed Patsy and Delia to share a room, it was more likely that Delia was the one wearing them. She liked wearing her lovers clothes, they felt safe.

Both Patsy and Delia had demons that uncovered themselves at night. Patsy still had nightmares about her childhood in the Japanese camp, and would wake up crying out, in a cold sweat. Delia had nightmares about her accident, waking as confused as she had when she had first come round from her accident. The two ladies kept each other as close as possible during the night, they were each other's safety net. There beds were closer than the beds in any other room, not so close that questions would be asked, but close enough that they could get to each other in the dark of night when the other needed comfort. 

"Patsy... I'm so glad we have each other so close, I'd be lost without you" Delia murmured as Patsy brushed out her fiery locks at the mirror. "I don't want either of us to ever feel alone again."  
Patsy exhaled pointedly. Even after everything they had been through together, she still sometimes struggled to express her feelings for Delia with words. This time, she didn't bother trying too long to find the words. She knelt by Delia's side, ran her hand gently over her face and brought her face down to meet hers, kissing her softly. It wasn't a passionate kiss in that it was fiery like her hair, but it was gently, loving, and full of promise. Delia patted the quilt next to her, inviting Patsy in to her bed beside her. Patsy didn't respond verbally, she just shook her head softly. As much as she wanted to share a bed with Delia every night, it wasn't worth risking it, not when they could be disturbed at any moment. 

It was pitch black outside when Delia woke. The sound of someone crying out woke her instantly, she was so used to it when she was dealing with Patsy's nightmares that her brain was programmed to become alert as soon as she heard that sound, regardless of how tired she was. She rolled over quickly, stretching her hand out to make contact with Patsy, to comfort her as she always did. This time, when her hand reached Patsy's bed, she realised that Patsy was already awake too, reaching out for her just as she had. 

"That wasn't you was it cariad?" Delia asked, with a hint of confusion in her soft Welsh lilt.  
"I thought it was you..." Patsy responded, sounding increasingly concerned.  
"Oh cripes" Delia had suddenly realised what was going on. She could rule out that it was any of the Nonnatuns, the only other person known to have nightmares was Sister Mary Cynthia and she was still away at Northfield, receiving more therapy after her attack and her bout of depression that followed. "It's Martha".

Patsy and Delia lept out of their beds and ran down the corridor to the room Martha had been given. They wanted to get to her before one of the nuns (especially Sister Monica Joan) as they both knew how nervous she had been during the day, neve rmind at night, in an unfamiliar bed, surrounded by unfamiliar people. As Delia slowly opened the door, she was relieved to see that they had managed to get there before anyone else. Sister Julienne came down the corridor from her room shortly after they had, but seeing that Nurse Mount and Nurse Busby, both nurses whom she trusted and cared for deeply, already had the situation in hand, she gave them a nod of acknowledgement before returning to her room. Both nurses knew that she would remain awake, it wasn't long until the Sisters would begin their day anyway, and if she was needed, she would be there.

Martha was sitting bolt upright, white as a sheet, on the end of her bed. A single bead of sweat ran down her forehead, and her hands gripped the sheet beneath her tightly, as if she was hanging on for dear life. Delia rushed to her side. She didn't want to make the poor girl more uncomfortable, but all she wanted to do was hold her like she did Patsy, and calm her down. Martha didn't react to their presence at all, remaining completely motionless. Delia began to talk to her softly, reassuring her that she was safe, and that nothing was going to hurt her here. A small smile met the edge of Patsy's mouth. Hearing Delia's soft voice comfort someone else as she had Patsy for so many hours made the love she had for her partner swell inside of her. Delia really was some sort of angel, only far better because she was here in this room, physically and wholly, able to make a conceivable difference to other people's lives.

As Martha began to sob, Delia wrapped her arms around her, desperate to make her feel safe. She continued to whisper soft platitudes, hoping that she would feel comfortable with her, even though she barely knew her.   
"Martha..." Delia began cautiously, "I know you don't know me, nor Patsy, and we know very little about you, there are a few things I want to tell you. Firstly, should you want to, you can talk to either of us, and we both promise we won't judge you." It seemed impossible that either of them could judge her, for they were so used to being judged for who they are themselves, and knew the pain it caused. "And secondly, if there is anything anyone here can do for you, you must tell us. It is our job to care for people, and we really do care"

Martha snuffled slightly, pulling herself away from Delia and wiping her eyes.   
"There is one thing I would like you to do, but I am afraid that it is a bit too much to ask of you, and it may not be something you would be allowed to do". Patsy stepped further into the room, making sure that the door was carefully closed behind her.   
"Well there's no harm in asking, is there?" She didn't want Martha to be afraid, and if there was something that they could help her with, even if they couldn't do what she wanted them to do, whatever it was could give them some useful information about her that might lead them to being able to help in other ways.

"Could you possible call me Marty? I cannot stand being called Martha. I know the other nurses might not, nor the nuns, but I would really appreciate it if you two could?" she asked quickly, blushing hard as she did. Both Patsy and Delia nodded, promising that they would. It was a bizarre request, but they saw no harm in doing as she wished. Sister Julienne and Sister Winifred might not approve, and Sister Monica Joan would probably come out with some baffling quote from Keats, but they did not need to know. It was as Marty said this, that Delia first noted her accent. She didn't have the usual East End accent, she spoke with a well practiced accent almost like Patsy's. It didn't seem to fit her completely, it seemed forced, and it was full of northern undercurrents, not dissimilar from Barbara's occasional Liverpudlian twang. She must have moved down to London, Delia concluded, deciding that she would have to ask why, and why she was trying so hard to change her accent. But it could wait until tomorrow.

Eventually Patsy and Delia together managed to convince Marty to get back into bed, and after a while, she drifted back off to sleep. Patsy and Delia remained sitting in her room until they were quite sure that she was in a deep and restful sleep. After a while, they crept back to their own room. They sat together on Delia's bed now, they only had a few more hours to sleep, and they were quite sure that they wouldn't be disturbed until later in the morning - everyone knew that Delia had a day off, and so long as Patsy was awake on time for clinic, there was no need for anyone else to enter their room. They led down together, wanting each other's comfort after a long night. They discussed the events of the night briefly, deciding that although Martha, Marty even, was a strange character, she somehow reminded both of the women of themselves, even though they were all such different people. It wasn't long until both Patsy and Delia were also asleep, and for a couple of short hours, Nonnatus House was entirely quiet and at rest.


	5. A Revelation?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And it gets dark. Just a short chapter. Tags updated ~ it's only going to get worse from here.

Tuesday morning was clinic morning, as it always had been. Clinic morning meant that almost all of the nurses (including the Sisters) were out. Well, almost all. Having worked a double shift the day before, Delia had the day off, and was left at Nonnatus House to look after Marty. It had been decided that morning that Delia would spend the morning with her, trying to get her to open up. After clinic, Shelagh Turner would come to Nonnatus to visit her. It had been Sister Julienne's idea to bring Shelagh over, as it was Shelagh who acted as Sister In Charge at the Maternity Home. As it appeared that Marty had nowhere else to go, it was presumed that she would benefit from being admitted to the Maternity Home, either as an antenatal case if there was cause for concern with her pregnancy, or as a social case if that was all that she could be admitted for.

Marty had been left to sleep after everyone else had left for clinic. Delia woke her with breakfast. She hadn't been sure what to make her, so she simply made her own breakfast twice, toast, Mrs B's jam, and a milky brew. Delia knocked gently on the door before making her way in. Marty was still asleep, looking far more settled and peaceful than she had last night, Delia was pleased to see. She set the tray of breakfast down on a chair, before tapping Marty carefully on the shoulder. She flashed awake very quickly, looking fearful for a moment before seeing Delia. Seeing a familiar face seemed to calm her down straight away. 

Delia and Marty ate their breakfast together in silence, but it was a comfortable silence. Marty seemed a lot more comfortable in Delia's presence than she had the night that they met. After breakfast, Delia took a pile of books and a pack of cards into Marty's room, wanting to try and keep her talking, but not wanting to push her to spend time in the kitchen, or the sitting room, where more of the nurses would be in and out all day, returning from clinic, and then on calls in the afternoon. Later on, Patsy joined the two of them, warning them that they had about an hour until Shelagh would come over. As soon as she heard that, Marty became far more nervous than she previously had been.

Delia quickly noticed how anxious Marty had become.  
"Can I ask you something Marty?"  
Delia laid her hand on Marty's large bump. Instantly, Marty flinched back, cringing as if she was in pain. Delia carried on talking, she knew marty would have to be examined soon, and that would involve someone doing more than gently laying a hand on her, but now was not the right moment.  
"Do you want this baby?"  
Marty flushed with anger. "No" she stated bluntly. "I don't want it, I've never wanted it, I don't even know who the father is". Marty blushed as she spoke. "I shouldn't have said that" she whispered, a single tear rolling down her cheek.  
"You don't know who the father is?" Patsy asked, shocked. Delia prodded her in the side. She was always the more empathetic of the two.  


"Oh..." Patsy had suddenly realised what this might have meant. "Oh sweetie, were you raped?" she asked, already knowing what the answer to that question would be. Marty shook her head sadly. Delia grasped her hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. A few more questions revealed that Marty had been raped in a small northern town and had since moved to London. Patsy was ready to believe everything that she had said, it certainly made sense. but Delia sensed that there was more to her story than she was letting on. It made sense, but every sentence was spoken cautiously, like a rehearsed script, just how she had spoken herself, so many times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm writing this instead of revising as I have too many stories flooding my head and not enough focus to do anything constructive. Any comments would be appreciated :) I'm tempted to start a modern AU fic, but have two concurrent stories on the go would likely be too much for me to write anything half decent.


	6. Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It just gets worse. There will probably be some fluff in the next chapter or maybe the one after though, if that's any consolation?

Marty was still crying by the time Shelagh had arrived.   
"Hello ladies, I take it this is our new friend Martha?" Shelagh stuck her head around the door before stepping in and shutting the door behind her. She had been warned in advance by Sister Julienne that Marty was very nervous, and that the only information known about her was that she was very young, and only her first name was known. Delia wrapped her arm around Marty's shoulder, even though she had only known her for a day, she already quite liked her. Delia was a good few years older than her, but she felt protective over her, almost like an older sister would. Patsy smiled at the closeness between them,Delia truly had a heart of gold. Patsy stood, and giving Delia a reassuring nod, made her excuses and left - giving them more space in the small room. They would all be quite alright without her, and anyway, she wanted to go and catch up with Trixie, she'd been on a date with Christopher last night and had spent the morning at clinic grinning like a child at Christmas.

Delia helped Marty get settled on the bed whilst Shelagh got out a set of instruments. Knowing that Marty would be incredibly nervous at the prospect of being examined, Delia stayed close to her side, ready to hold her hand if she needed it.   
"Okay then Marty, could you lift up your dress for me?" Shelagh started the examination as she would with any other expectant mother. Marty reached down and messed with the hem of the dress she was wearing (a simple beige dress Barbara Hereward had found for her, the shirt and slacks she had been found in were still being cleaned and dried). Sensing her trepidation, Shelagh helped her lift her dress over her large pregnancy bump. Delia and Shelagh both noticed at the same time; large, angry cuts all down the side of her abdomen. Some were older than others, the newest ones couldn't be from more than a few days ago, and they all looked in desperate need of a good dose of antiseptic. Delia couldn't help but wince.

It was nothing either of the Nurses hadn't seen before. It wasn't uncommon for extremely troubled, usually very young women to do such things to themselves. Shelagh did not understand it, and she would certainly have to get Doctor Turner to talk to her, but she knew that causing a fuss about it now wouldn't do any good. She instead turned her attention to the examination, first by taking out her pinard and listening to Marty's baby's heartbeat. A few minutes later, Shelagh was confident that although the expectant mother was in quite a state, her blood pressure was only slightly raised, and the baby appeared to be perfectly healthy.   
"Well then Martha, I am pleased to say that baby is very healthy. I will leave you in Nurse Busbsy's capable hands now" Shelagh said to Marty, before pulling Delia over to the other side of the room.  
"She trusts you, Nurse Busby. please get the wounds on her abdomen cleaned, I have all of the supplies you will need in my bag, and keep her settled. I'm going to get Doctor Turner to come and talk to her, maybe this evening if he has time after his rounds, otherwise I will make sure she is on his list tomorrow. I will have to talk to Sister Julienne of course, but I would like her to stay here - it may not be wise, nor safe, if we try to move her to the maternity home. You and Nurse Mount, along with the other nurses, will be able to keep a closer eye on her than I can in the maternity home."

Shelagh hurried off to find Sister Julienne, after handing Delia everything she would need. Delia knelt down next to the bed where Marty was still lying.   
"I'm sorry cariad, I'm going to have to ask you to lift your dress up again."  
This time Marty managed to sort her dress out herself, but stayed silent, starting intently at the ceiling, not even looking at Delia. Delia carefully applied the disinfectant, and a good few sticking plasters. She knew how much the disinfectant stung, so she made sure to be careful and gentle.   
"If you want to talk about this, or why you did it, you can talk to me Marty, or Patsy, or Shelagh, or the doctor later. but whilst you're staying with us, if you feel that you might do something to hurt yourself again, it is especially important that you talk to someone. No one will make you answer any questions you don't want to, but we need to keep you safe." Delia dropped the volume of her voice so she was barely audible, she didn't want to overwhelm the poor girl, but she added "I know how much pain you are in, mentally and physically, but I care about you". 

Marty looked at Delia, and sighed in acknowledgement, but didn't even whisper a single word. Delia wasn't surprised that she didn't want to talk, she knew she must be quite overwhelmed with everything that had happened in the last hour. She decided that the best thing to do now was to keep Marty calm, so she ran to the bathroom, started running a bath then returned to help Marty to the bathroom, fetching soap and a towel on their way. She left Marty to bathe, making sure that the door wasn't locked, and alerting Sister Winifred, who was spending time in her room just next to the bathroom where she could hear anything that was going on, just in case. 

Having already looked at the roster, Delia knew that Patsy would be working the night shift. Therefore, she would be in their room, getting ready to go out to whichever mother of Poplar needed her. Delia padded softly into their room. She needed to let out some of her emotions, and Patsy was the only person she could turn to right now. She walked up behind Patsy and tucked a lock of her hair into place, pinning it up high, just how Patsy always had it. Patsy turned round to face her, immediately reading the pained expression that was creeping across Delia's face.   
"What's wrong Deels?" Patsy asked, bringing her lover into her arms, pressing a kiss onto her forehead.   
"It was so awful Pats. She's in such a mess, she has all these cuts on her bump Pats, so many!"  
That wasn't quite what Patsy was expecting to hear. "You mean from when she was attacked?"  
"No cariad..." Delia had never broached this subject with Patsy "She did them to herself."  
"What?!"

When Delia spoke about people doing awful things to themselves, her voice was filled with tender care. When Patsy spoke, her voice was riddled with anger. Delia didn't understand why Patsy sounded angry, so she pushed herself back just enough to see her face, not breaking their embrace.   
"How could she do that to herself?" Patsy gasped.  
Delia didn't know how to explain this, she knew how shocking it looked. She didn't have chance to respond before Patsy carried on, spluttering with anger and disbelief.  
"I have hundreds of scars across my body, all inflicted by angry men, speaking a language i didn't understand, when i should have been enjoying the innocence of my youth! How dare someone be so... Selfish! Doing that to herself... How could Mrs Turner just gloss over it like that? The woman should be in a psychiatric institution!"  
Delia dropped her eyes to the floor, she didn't know how to respond to this... Before her accident, before she worked on male surgical even, she had worked as a psychiatric nurse. She knew an institution wasn't a suitable place for a woman about to give birth but that was beside the point. She loved Patsy, and she never wanted to keep secrets from her, but she had just found one that she would definitely have to keep to herself now. Patsy caught the clock out of the corner of her eye.  
"Drat, i have to go" she snapped, and stormed out of the room, not even checking that Delia was okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! :) I would really appreciate any feedback - I think I know where I want this story to go, I have the next few chapters planned out, but I other ideas would be useful!


	7. Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *trigger warning - self harm*. Please read with due caution, it is rather graphic. I'm taking my emotions out on our poor Deels instead of myself.

Delia made sure that Marty was safely in her room, and that Sister Julienne was in the room next door, keeping an ear out for trouble. The Sister had seen how Delia had cared for their patient the night before, and noticed how tired the young nurse looked now. Knowing that she was working for all of the next day, Sister Julienne offered to look after Martha if anything was to happen in the night again. Delia would have liked to have looked after her herself, but with everything that had just happened with Patsy, she didn't feel able to. She thanked the nun, and went back to her room. Delia knew that there were many people in Nonnatus House that she could spend time with, rather than shutting herself in her room alone, but she didn't want to socialise. 

The events with Marty had stirred up emotions deep inside Delia that she hadn't felt for a long time. She felt how she had when she had first remembered Patsy, but was stuck in Wales and could not contact her. The pair had quarreled before, but never before one of them had to go to work, never without first making sure they were both okay. Delia felt alone, isolated; feelings she hated because of the affect they had on her, the urges they materialised. Delia knew that she would be alone in her room for a long time tonight, she could do anything and no one would know.

After making sure that the door was jammed shut, so that she would have a few moments notice at least, if anyone was to try and enter the room, Delia pulled a small tin from inside her bedside cabinet. It was an unsuspecting container, one that would usually contain mints, or maybe be re-purposed as a miniature sewing tin. She had first used it for it's current purpose back in Wales. Slowly she opened the lid, revealing the two shining blades it held. Delia knew they were sterilised, although she had not felt the need to use them in a long time, she made sure they were clean. Just in case. She already had a glass of water, disinfectant and sticking plasters, and a cloth, all ready and to hand. She didn't want to make a mess, she just wanted to feel the pain she knew she could bring herself. She wanted to feel something, anything, that would drown out the pain radiating throughout her body from her heart.

Delia had never confided in Patsy about this before, because she didn't want to burden her girlfriend with anything else, she had enough worries of her own to deal with. She had never needed to explain it, she only had one visible scar, running down the back of her shoulder, and she had explained it away by saying it was from her accident, a piece of glass from the windshield perhaps, she didn't remember. It was all so convenient. If Patsy ever did find out, perhaps she wouldn't want to be her girlfriend anymore. Perhaps she'd be disgusted with her for what she did. After their earlier conversation, Delia knew that Patsy would not respond well to this if she ever managed to find out. She wondered if their relationship would be broken beyond repair as she ran her thumb down the edge of the blade, testing its sharpness.

Standing with her back to the mirror in the room, Delia pulled her top over her head and turned round to see the back of her shoulder in the mirror, the scar already there a glistening, white line in the dim light. She ran the blade down her shoulder, parallel to the scar already there, once, twice, three times, all on the same spot, deepening the wound. Instantly, crimson blood dripped down her back, like the tear rolling down her cheek. She grabbed the cloth and held it to the cut, waiting for it to stop bleeding. Once it had stopped, she cleaned it, and covered it with a few sticking plasters. The blade was returned to the tin and hidden in her bedside drawer, alongside the cloth, which she would dispose of in the morning. Delia knew that she had to hide this from Patsy. Lying on her side to avoid the searing pain in her shoulder, Delia let the salty tears fall across her face into her pillow. She stayed there until she heard Patsy return, quickly flipping her pillow before rolling over and pretending to be asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm probably just going to write this as it comes to me so bear with. I'll likely redo it if anything comes of it. Apologies for the worst fanfiction to be put on this blessed site. Chapters will vary in length, first few will be rather short but it depends on how long I can concentrate. I promise I won't publish anything that is under 500 words.


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